


Limits

by anxiouslyawaiting



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Ending, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, The Sign of Three Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:09:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxiouslyawaiting/pseuds/anxiouslyawaiting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe things wouldn't be so devoid of John Watson after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Limits

**Author's Note:**

> After not having written anything remotely fic-like in over a year, The Sign of Three and its sad, sad ending inspired me to pen this. First posted on my Tumblr blog, debatched. Enjoy!

"We can’t all three dance - there are limits."

"Yes, there are."

The music was becoming overwhelming, every beat resounding in his ears. He watched as John and Mary left his side, oblivious to the thoughts racing through his mind. As he looked over to Janine dancing with someone else, the thought that he had just been replaced dawned on him, but he pushed the feeling aside as he always did.

Fighting the overwhelming urge to sway to the pattern of notes pumping out of the speakers, he began pushing through the unobservant crowd, needing silence. As he walked faster he began running through the events of the day, picking and choosing which to delete and which to save.

_Whatever it takes, whatever happens, from now on I swear I will always be there. Always._

He had said those words, and surprisingly enough, he had meant those words, but were they the words he needed to say that would keep John at his side? He had left the man’s side once, and he swore he would never leave it again, but after today it felt like the events of two years ago were repeating, only worse this time around because _nothing_ was in his control.

In a moment of habitual masochism, he decided to keep the memory.  

He was outside, wrapped inside the solace of his Belstaff, not quite ready to go to 221B and face the lack of a certain army doctor that would now be permanent. He could still hear faint echoes of the song blaring inside, and now, under the watchful gaze of no one, he let himself move softly to the beat.

It was absolutely irrational to think that a man like John Watson would want to live out the rest of his days with someone like himself.  It was even more irrational of him to think that somehow by being the best best man imaginable, it would make John stay. 

His small, rhythmic steps grew more confident as he accustomed himself to the idea of living in Baker Street alone once more. He was about to make a twirl on an impulsive whim when he suddenly heard a door swing open from behind him. 

He froze. He didn’t have to turn around to identify the owner of those familiar, steady yet somehow understated footsteps. 

"You’re an utter idiot if you think those limits apply to you."


End file.
